


Egg Roll

by ChineseCabbage



Series: Begin Again [2]
Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, General Series Spoiler, M/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15920553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChineseCabbage/pseuds/ChineseCabbage
Summary: First day in new world! And Sento and Ryuuga find their first obstacle in living independently as two bachelors without Nascita; none of them can cook.





	Egg Roll

**Author's Note:**

> I don't watch Kamen Rider Zi-o yet so I don't know how are they going post-Build. Let's say all these drabbles happened before Zi-o timeline, maybe?

On the first day they decided to live together— _based entirely in the name of solidarity from the only two anomaly entities in this alternate universe_ they  _had created_ , if Ryuuga liked to add—both realized they have zero culinary skill, which was kind of important in this situation where they needed to survive and saved some bucks to afford a better living. And so, both stared at the various food ingredients, hands frozen midair. No one had even the slightest idea what to do with the broccoli and its fellow raw friends on the kitchen table. 

Ryuuga was the first one to react for this unexpected shortcoming, “what? Aren’t you gonna … chopping and frying stuff or something?

“I thought _you_ want to,” answered Sento truthfully, “I can’t cook.”

“Like hell,  _I can’t cook_. Aren't you supposed to be the genius one here? Mixing elements is totally your stuff!” 

Sento gave Ryuuga his best _I-pitied-your-protozoan-brain-and-its-disappointing-capacity_ look, sighed loudly, and replied, "for the record, Banjou, I have 5 degrees in science and engineering, not chemist."

"They're not the same?"

"Never. And it's a common knowledge."

Ryuuga huffed, "then what are we supposed to do with these?! Who’s the fucker who put these stuffs into the trolley in the first place?”

“Language, Banjou.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t like kids are watching us or something.”

Sento took a glance to the vegetables, some meat, organic eggs, vegetable oil, and another half-dozen of various seasoning products on the table and scratched the back of his head, “you were looking out at asparagus, so I thought you knew how to cook.”

“You were putting stuffs inside the trolley while I was looking at asparagus, I thought you knew how to cook,” replied Ryuuga.

“I was putting stuffs inside the trolley because I assumed _you’re_ gonna cook,” said Sento, “I mean … you looked very convincing looking at asparagus so seriously like that.”

“I forgot what vegetable it was. I’m looking while wondering the name—you know what, let’s forget it,” Ryuuga rolled his eyes, “now what are we supposed to do with _these,_ and what are we gonna eat tonight?”

The problem was, somehow, solved three days later, after what felt like a dozen of instant cup noodlefor 3 meals per day.

Sento was just about to knock on the door, after a tiring part-time work, when he smelled a familiar burnt scene. In panic— _oh shit the house is on fire oh shit we're gonna burn the only underwear we had oh shit the landowner gonna kill us for sure oh shit Banjou—... _Banjou _—___ he barged in through the door and cried out, "BANJOU—"

Ryuuga turned his head. Eyes widen in confusion for the unbeknownst horror in Sento's eyes.

"Uhm, yes? Sento?"

Sento's eyes looked back and forth to the book on his hand, his apron, the black soot spotted on his clothes, to his equally soot-covered face again.

"B ... Banjou ...?" Sento stuttered, about seventy-five percent awkward from his sudden barge and twenty-five percent relieved.

 _Here it comes_ , Ryuuga thought smugly, the time when that smug (ex) scientist acknowledged Ryuuga for somehing he couldn't do. Ryuuga could already heard Sento's mesmerized words in his head; ' _Banjou, you can cook?'_

"Banjou, you can read?— _OUCH!_ ”

Snapped, Ryuuga threw his cooking book perfectly straight to Sento's head.

"Of course I can! What the hell with that question?!"

"I'm just kidding ...!" Sento groaned, crouching while rubbing his reddened forehead, "for god sake, Banjou, you throw a book as thick as Play Station 4 to a scientist head. Don't you know how precious every cell in my brain is?"

"Serves you right," replied Ryuuga coldly, "now give me back my book. I need to finish our dinner."

"Wait, I wanna call my life insurance company first."

Then Ryuuga threw a spatula which he dodged barely an inch away.

Sento decided to stop giving remarks toward Ryuuga. The next nearest object he could grab was a kitchen knife, and Sento's afraid how the outcome would be if he couldn't dodge that one.

 

*

 

All those blackened pans, soot covered their entire kitchen, complaints from the neighbor for the stingy burnt smell, were for a humble dinner consisted of a bowl of rice, a fried mackerel, miso soup, and egg roll—his favorite kind of egg roll.

Ryuuga barely made the dish looked presentable, and Sento assumed he must felt unconfident with the taste. The usual proud Banjou Ryuuga now looked awkwardly stiff he across the table, eyes refused to meet Sento's.

"Man, I'm so hungry. Anything will taste great at this point," Sento said, trying to make himself sounded as as light as possible, "let's eat," he continued, took a small portion of egg roll with his chopstick.

_Holy Vernage, if this wasn't the weirdest egg roll he ever tasted ...._

Sento was about to mock the weird taste right into Ryuuga's face when his eyes caught a glimpse of Ryuuga's fingers—which was covered with healing cut wounds and burn marks. 

All jeers vanished away from his thought. Sento swallowed the egg roll on his tongue hardly, bitterly.

"... Who knows you have a talent in cooking, Banjou?" said Sento in the end, chuckled lightly.

Ryuuga snorted, sounded more annoyed rather than proud, "who do you wanna kid, Sento?"

"Well," Sento took a bite for the-bit-too-crispy fried mackerel; it tasted as weird as the egg roll, "I believe you're at least doing a better job than me."

"Lying bastard," murmured Ryuuga.

Yet he smiled, still. And Sento secretly smiled to his dinner too.


End file.
